His voice was cold and even as he
watched the other sheathe his gun. "Didn't know me, eh? But you was
figurin' on pluggin' me."
He walked close to the man and stuck his face close to the other, his
lips in a straight line. He knew Colton to be one of the most
conscienceless "killers" in the section of the country near Tombstone.
"Who was you lookin' for, then?" demanded Sanderson.
"Not you--that's a cinch!" grinned the other, fidgeting nervously under
Sanderson's gaze. He whispered to Sanderson, for in the latter's eyes
he saw signs of a cold resolve to sift the matter to the bottom:
"Look here, Square; I sure don't want none of your game. Things has
been goin' sorta offish for me for a while, an' so when I meets a guy a
while ago who tells me to 'git' a guy named Will Bransford--pointin'
you out to me when your back was turned--I takes him up. I wasn't
figurin'----"
"Who told you to get Bransford?" demanded Sanderson.
"A guy named Dale," whispered Colton.
Sanderson turned swiftly. He saw Dale still standing in the doorway.
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